Eric Boshart

Eric Boshart-Katie Mathias

Don’t feel bad if this article doesn’t make you laugh. Even if you are unable to muster up the tiniest internal “lol,” it’s not you, it’s me. I’m not a writer; I’m the sketch artist. The editors threatened to fire me if I didn’t participate in this week’s theme of writing about another team member. That’s a lie. I actually had to do an embarrassing amount of begging so they would allow me to write something this week.

I have only known Eric for a few months and was feeling unprepared to write this article about him. I forced him to hang out with me a couple of times so that I could learn his life story, or at least a few new facts about him. We actually ended up talking mostly about me because that’s what I do best. If you find that hard to believe, please take note that six of the ten sentences you have just read of this article, titled “Eric Boshart,” are about me.

Back to this magazine’s golden boy. This short amount of time I have known him has been great. Remember when the Gameboy Advance SP came out and it had a built-in backlight plus a built-in rechargeable battery and it was like all of our prayers had been answered? Meeting Eric evokes the same feeling. No, I’m serious. He really is all that and a bag of chips. Find me someone cooler than a half Peruvian, wannabe gangster who is severely obsessed with Woody Allen. Unless you know a Mexican-Dominican, wannabe FBI agent who is severely obsessed with pizza (yes I am talking about myself again), I don’t think you can.

Like most St. Ed’s seniors, you can usually find Eric not doing homework in the library and showing off his fresh Sports Clips haircut, or playing FIFA in his apartment and laughing at his own jokes. His sense of humor isn’t only self-appreciated though. If you haven’t checked out any of his articles yet, I definitely recommend it. His writing will make you laugh harder than I did the first time I saw the ever-popular Charlie Bit My Finger Youtube video (which actually wasn’t very much at all; chubby British toddlers are my least favorite animals).

Despite being an economics major, his true love is film, mainly ones by Woody Allen. Actually, I am pretty sure Eric doesn’t even really likes movies; he just likes Woody Allen. He once told me that ninety-eight percent of his daydreams are of him frolicking across a Californian beach into the arms of the seventy-eight year old cinematic legend. So if you’re looking to seduce Mr. Boshart any time soon, I suggest you invest in some thick-rimmed glasses and rent a copy of Annie Hall. Make sure you also eventually pop in Rick Ross’ “Push It.” Eric’s favorite kind of music is the kind he can’t relate to. If later on in the night he starts referring to you as his “homie g,” don’t get offended, it’s not his fault. He didn’t choose the thug life, his mom picked it out for him.

I hope you now feel like you know a little a bit more about Eric Boshart, or would at least have something to talk to him about over waffles. If not, you can just talk about me. That’s what I always do.